At twilight, the fishes are retreating
To the distant depth, like an ocean
They are sure of disappearance with all
The effort being made. There is no more
Jumping out of the surface; every little corner
Feeling like a void.
They are full of day dreams.
They complain with broken bubbles.
They hear the ghosts ranting
Beneath the currents, no matter
How far away they try to keep.
The shore is too many calls.
They are certain about the warm
Sunlight that can reflect and
Refract from their bodies as they become
Lighter, and lighter at dawn
